


The Rings of Saturn

by Moon_Disc



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode s0202: Shadow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24942712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Disc/pseuds/Moon_Disc
Summary: There was only one thing Vila really wanted. Getting it was dangerous. If only he could find some way to get Jenna to help him make his wish come true...
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	The Rings of Saturn

**The Rings of Saturn**

“Anyone want a drink?”

Vila, as enthusiastic as ever, had bounded on to the flight deck, a bottle of milky-blue liquid in one hand and several glasses tucked under his other arm. He looked hopefully from one unimpressed face to another.

“Oh, come on,” he urged. “It is my birthday.”

“Again?” said Gan, looking up from the book screen on his lap. “I thought it was your birthday last week.”

“You must have misheard,” said Vila, depositing the glasses on the table. “Today is my birthday.”

“You’re certain this time?”

“Course I am. I have a birthday this time every year.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Now, who’s going to join me?”

“I will,” said Gan. 

“That’s the spirit!” Vila sloshed the liquid into a glass and passed it across. Gan took a sip and grimaced. “Cally?”

Cally, drawn from listening to her music, removed the headset and gave him a quizzical look. “Is this wise?”

“Does it have to be?” Vila replied. “It’s not every day I get to be twenty-one.”

Cally’s frown deepened. “You aren’t twenty-one, Vila.”

“I was once.” A silly smile took shape on his lips. “What a day that was. I certainly got the keys to the door that day.”

“What door?”

“You know, like the song. ‘He’s got the key to the door, never been twenty-one before...’” He trailed off with Cally looking more mystified than ever. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I think it loses something in translation,” said Gan, setting his glass aside. “That’s quite strong, Vila. What is it?”

“Something I picked up at Space City. Guaranteed to put you into orbit in two easy steps: pour and drink. Cally, can I interest you?”

“So you wish to be younger,” she said slowly, still struggling to understand his ramblings. “Why?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Jenna remarked. 

Up at the main console, she had only been half-listening to the conversation. Monitoring the flight computers while the _Liberator_ harvested ice crystals for water was necessary but tedious. This close to the rings of the gas giant, Geras, in Sector Five, conflicting gravitational forces could cause even the most stable of ships to behave erratically. So far, the _Liberator_ had performed impeccably. As she knew, however, that could change in the time it took to look away from the screens. 

“I do not,” said Cally earnestly, turning to her to answer her question. “I would not trade the wisdom I have gained from my experiences, whether good or bad, for a return to childhood.”

“I would,” said Vila wistfully. “Things were simpler then. Like birthdays. I knew what I wanted back then.”

“And now?”

His face fell slightly. “I don’t know what I want. Well, I do, but I can’t have it.” He was silent for a moment while he processed that thought. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“No, thank you,” Cally replied. “I don’t think you should either. You are not making any sense, Vila.”

“Less than usual, you mean,” said Gan with a grin.

Vila visibly withered. He sank down onto the couch, shoulders slumped and glass hanging listlessly from his hand. He had the look of a chastised pet, not entirely accidentally, Jenna thought. Even if it was a performance calculated to gain sympathy, it was still a miserable way to spend the day.

“I’ll have one with you, Vila,” she said. “As it’s your birthday. Just a small one.”

“Do you want me to take over?” Gan offered, as Vila eagerly half-filled a glass and ran it up to her. 

“Once we’re at capacity, I’ll take a break. Not much longer.” Jenna coughed as the drink caught in the back of her throat. She passed the glass back to Vila. “That tastes like shuttle fuel.”

“I know, good, isn’t it?” Vila enthused. “One sip and straight into orbit. That’s the sort of birthday present I like these days. Mind you, I’ve had worse.”

“Better too, I hope.”

Vila nodded. “Best birthday present I ever had was one of those day cruises out to Saturn. It was the only year my father was able to come with us.”

“Your father was a busy man?” asked Gan.

“He would have been,” Vila said absently, lounging up against Jenna’s console, “if he wasn’t incarcerated so much. He did his best for us, though. He got three years in a penal colony for stealing the credits to get us on that Saturn trip, but it was worth it. The only thing was...”

The way he said it suggested he wanted to be asked. Gan obliged.

“We never got to ride the rings,” Vila went on. “The captain said there had been a gravitational shift and it wasn’t safe.”

“Lost his nerve more like it,” said Jenna.

“Why would he do that?” asked Cally.

“Because it is dangerous.” Avon had appeared at the head of the stairs, never slow to answer a question when he thought he knew better. He descended and took up position in the centre of the flight deck, with the air of someone about to address an audience. Vila looked slightly nervous in the face of his confident stance. “Only a fool rides the rings of Saturn.”

“It’s not dangerous if you know what you’re doing,” said Jenna. If his tone of voice was not irritating enough, the smug look on his face was calculated to rile on every level. “I’ve flown them a few times.”

“As I said, only a fool.”

“That’s your opinion.”

Avon’s smiled broadened. “Naturally. Who else’s could it be?” His gaze fell upon the glasses. “I see you have been using your time productively, Vila. What was the reason this time?”

“His birthday,” said Gan before Vila could reply.

Avon snapped Orac’s key into place. “Orac, is today Vila’s birthday?”

“I am busy,” came the computer’s querulous voice. “Do not waste my time with irrelevances when this area represents opportunities to gather information.”

“A yes or no would suffice.”

“No!”

“Thank you, Orac. Well, Vila?”

“Yes, I’d like an explanation too,” said Jenna.

He at least had the decency to look guilty about his deception. “I never got to see the rings,” he said miserably. “That was true. I always wanted to see the ice mountains.” His gaze went to the main screen and the image of the ringed planet before them, rainbow-swirled as though bright pigments had been dripped into its dust-infested atmosphere. “The way things are, I’m not likely to see Saturn again. This is the closest I’ll ever get now. I was hoping you might take us nearer for a better look, Jenna, if you thought it was important.”

It was a sobering thought. In an unforgiving universe, Earth Sector was a small corner some on the _Liberator_ called home. As usual, Vila, in one of his moments of perspicacity, had touched upon an uncomfortable truth. And as usual, it took Avon to break the spell.

“Archive images will show you all you need to know.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jenna responded.

“You’ve seen them?” Vila asked.

“Many times. The rings were convenient for covert exchanges of goods until the Federation closed the planet to tourism.”

“Too many dead free-traders were bad for business, no doubt,” Avon said.

“That wasn’t the reason,” Jenna countered. He was doing his best, and succeeding, at being objectionable. Boredom probably lay at the heart of it, she decided. Several hours of staring at monitors was not improving her mood either. “The increased traffic was speeding up the dispersal of the rings. Although accidents did occur, yes.”

Avon had the ill-grace to smile again, believing her admission had proved him right. It rankled. The temptation to wipe that smug look from his face become irrepressible.

“Zen,” she called out. “What is the composition of Geras’ rings?”

“Water-ice is the primary material,” Zen intoned, “with lesser quantities of solid matter, comprising a mix of silicate and―”

“Do any of the rings have shadows?” Jenna interrupted.

“Shadows have been recorded throughout the rings.”

“Show me. Close magnification.” She studied the screen with its image of section of the rings, several bearing the ragged edges betraying the structures tall enough to make their presence known. “There,” she said. “Those appear to be the largest, towards the middle. Zen, is there an embedded moon in that gap?”

“The moon is called Moros. Along with Keres, it acts as a shepherd moon for the ring.”

“I’m not sure I understood any of that,” said Gan.

“The moons keep the ring stable and the gap clear,” said Jenna. “Zen, where are the moons now?”

“Grid reference three one nine.”

“That should be far enough away. Vila,” Jenna addressed him, “do you want to see the ice mountains?”

“You’re not thinking of taking us in there?” Avon interjected. “The tidal gravitational forces that close to the planet will tear us apart.”

“I’m not planning on staying that long. Well, Vila? It’s not Saturn, but it’s close enough.”

“I wouldn’t say no,” he said, brightening.

“Cally? Gan?”

“While we’re here, I don’t see why not,” said Gan. “I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Oh, you’ll like it,” Vila enthused. “I had a friend who used to take all his girlfriends to Saturn. He said it always worked. And he would know.”

“Worked on what?” asked Cally innocently.

Vila reddened. “Well, you know.”

“Is it really as dangerous as Avon says?” Gan asked, sparing Vila further embarrassment.

“It depends on the skill of the pilot,” said Jenna.

“Which is not a recommendation, considering you ended up on a prison ship,” said Avon.

Jenna stuck out her chin and held his gaze. “It wasn’t because of my flying skills.”

“We’ll have to take your word for that.”

“Remind me again, Avon, how much did you _actually_ get away with?” The barb found its mark and Avon backed down. “That’s what I thought,” said Jenna. “Zen, set an intercept course for the Moros gap.”

“Information,” said Zen. “There is a Federation prohibition order on entering the rings of Geras. The penalty is summary execution.”

“They can only hang us once. Zen, give me manual control.”

“Blake won’t like it,” said Cally.

“Then don’t tell him.” The rings rose to the top of the main screen and vanished as Jenna manoeuvred the ship onto a new course. “The trick is,” she said, gritting her teeth slightly as proximity alarms started to sound, “to come at it from underneath, match the orbit of the moon and compensate for gravitational forces. Not difficult in theory.”

“In practice?” Vila queried.

“Very difficult. Raise the force wall.”

Avon beat him to it.

“I thought you didn’t approve,” Jenna remarked.

“I’d rather my final words were not ‘I told you so’.” The ship shuddered suddenly as something smashed into the hull. Avon staggered, catching at the back of the seating to steady himself. “Switch to automatics.”

“No, I’ve got it.” Her fingers were turning white as she drove the controls forward. A rolling solid block of ice and rock was on a direct collision course. A slight correction and it passed by, leaving the _Liberator_ unscathed.

“Outside pressure on the hull is approaching the maximum design tolerance,” said Zen.

“Fascinating!” Orac chirruped. “Are you aware that the _Liberator_ is now under the influence of twelve conflicting gravitational fields? The ship is being both squeezed and pulled in different directions simultaneously causing a bilateral strain on the _Liberator’s_ infrastructure. I calculate that hull integrity will be fatally compromised in eight point three nine minutes. The termination of human life aboard should follow at ten point one six minutes.”

“And you soon after,” said Avon. “Jenna, pull back now!”

“No need.” She nodded to the screen. “Look.”

A narrow black corridor rose into view. Lazily turning, suspended in space, a field of shining ice crystals spun out on every side. As the _Liberator_ rose through the debris of a long-lost moon, the line between shadow and light moved, carving the irregular bodies of drifting rock into sharp profile. Ghostly shapes appeared, rising high above the flattened belt. Not solid ice, but instead the outlines of mountains, created from threaded crystals, gossamer fine, glistening as if touched by morning dew, sculpted into extravagant contours by the influence of passing moons. Even as the ship moved between them, they seemed to change and grow, reaching out delicate fingers to the distant stars.

Jenna watched the screen, allowing time to stand still, revelling in the moment. Then looking round at the others, she saw the effect was universal. Gan, now on his feet, nodding with approval. Vila, mouth hanging open, spellbound by the spectacle before him. Cally was entranced and Avon... well, Avon had been silenced. It was the closest he would ever come to admitting he was impressed.

“Information,” Zen announced. “Outside pressure has now exceeded the maximum design tolerance. Stress fractures have been detected on the hull. Repair monitors are assessing the damage.”

“All right, you’ve proved your point,” said Avon, turning to her. “Was it worth it?”

“Oh, yes,” said Gan. He gave Jenna a knowing look. “It was worth it.”

More than he would ever know, she thought. Constantly running and hiding meant the beauty of all the cosmos had to offer often slid by unheeded. In the brittle silence of space, there were sights few had ever been privileged to glimpse and wonders that fragile humans could never regulate or destroy. They had watched the birth of galaxies and the death of stars. Long after the Federation had gone, they would endure.

And for Jenna, there was something else too. Flight was unequivocal. There was no such thing as a routine mission. Every moment presented a new challenge. The margin between life and death turned on skill and experience, and if she were honest, a fair amount of luck. When things went right, it was the greatest high the universe had to offer. Like now, with a ship at her command, capable of withstanding the battling forces of gravity from numerous celestial bodies and making dreams come true. Even so, every pilot was tested sooner or later. Some lived, most died. One day, Jenna knew, that test would come. But not today.

She dropped the _Liberator_ below the debris belt and began the slow retreat back to the edge of the rings in free space.

“Zen, inform me when hull pressure falls to an acceptable tolerance,” she said. “Did you see enough, Vila?”

He nodded. “Thanks, Jenna. Second best birthday present I’ve ever had. If it was my birthday, I mean.”

“All these worlds, it must be your birthday on one of them.”

“Well, if you put it like that...”

Zen announced that hull pressure had returned to acceptable limits and repairs were underway.

“There,” said Gan. “No harm done. No one will ever know we were here.”

“As if we had never been,” mused Vila. “That’s a bit sad, when you think of it.”

“Then let’s change that,” said Jenna decisively.

Gan was thrown back onto the seating and Vila clung to the back of Jenna's chair for dear life as the ship surged forward and upwards into the outermost ring. Ice and rocks rattled in muffled succession on the hull, their impact softened by the intervention of the force wall, as the _Liberator_ sheared a path through the heart of the debris. Levelling out, ignoring Avon’s protests, Jenna instructed Zen to set a powered orbit, standard by one half, and sat back in her chair.

“Have you lost your mind?” Avon yelled, picking himself up from the floor.

“Maybe I’ve found it again.”

“Information,” said Zen. “The detectors have registered three pursuit ships on an intercept course from the Federation base on Chella Three. Battle computers propose evasive action.”

“Stay on course,” she said. “We’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

The sound of running footsteps heralded Blake’s arrival. Roused from his bed, he was still in the process of pulling on his clothes as he hurried down the steps.

“Are we under attack?” he demanded. “What the hell is going on?”

“You may well ask,” Avon returned.

Jenna fixed him with a bold look. “We’re making our mark on history. Zen, direct vision three-sixty orbital scan.”

The scanner screen expanded. A new channel in the rings was being created by the _Liberator’s_ progress. Undulating waves of ice crystals scattered like spilled diamonds, winking and glinting with the reflected light of the system’s distant sun as they tumbled away from the ship’s hull, each resembling a vibrant miniature star in its own right. With a full circuit of Geras complete, the debris thinned and gave way to a clear path. 

Blake came up and stood beside her, admiring the view. “Impressive. Is there any reason we’re alerting the Federation to our presence?”

“I thought someone should know we had been here.”

“I see.” He remained quiet while she guided the _Liberator_ out of orbit and instructed Zen to set a course out of the system. “They’ll know,” he said to her. “We will make them remember.”

She returned his smile and wished she had his faith. Many had thought that and many had died in the attempt. Their fate had been that of the forgotten. It was in the nature of things. In a universe as big as this, it was easy to be lost. But for a while, in one small segment of it, this moment would remain for as long as the channel held, until Geras and its moons closed the gap and removed them from its memory. Even then, there was one last thing she could do.

“I think I’ll take that break now.” So saying, she stepped down from her console. Gan stood up ready to take her place. “No, let Avon take over. He looks like he needs the practice.” The sullen look Avon gave her as she passed by was a thing of beauty. “Orac,” she said, pausing at the computer, “make an amendment to the official records, on this day, of the first appearance of the Vila Gap in the rings of Geras.”

“You’re naming it after that cretin?” said Avon.

“Why not? It was his idea.”

Vila looked stunned. “Thanks, Jenna!”

“The next time you want something, just ask,” she said, giving him a weary smile. “Oh, and Vila?” He looked up again expectantly. “Happy birthday, whenever it is.”

**The End**


End file.
